


Well, Since You Asked So Nicely

by Wildgoosery



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Be nice to your skeleton boyfriend, M/M, Sure there's a plot the plot is "Kravitz is cheerfully destroyed"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery
Summary: Kravitz is finally cornered into admitting he'd like a change; Taako is more than happy to oblige.





	Well, Since You Asked So Nicely

Kravitz is forever asking what you want, always pinning you down with his hands and words at once, and it's not like you don't understand why. You're aware of what a slippery bastard you can be, of how you treat desire like a chink in your armor.

But of course you want things, maybe more than most people. You're hungry for his body, for his mouth on your own and other places, for his skin and the way he smells, like ash and sandalwood. You want to feel him over you, inside of you, to be pushed down under his weight on your bed or held at the edge of his desk, your legs around his waist and his thumbs hooked onto the points of your hips. You want to be fucked by someone who cares if you enjoy it, and he does. He cares so much that sometimes it freaks you out a little -- how he looks at you and how that winds you up, how it stays with you for days after.

It's not that you don't ask him things. "You wanna come over?" you'll say into the stone cupped in your palm. And later, "Do you want me to leave this on?" Or, "Do you wanna do this yourself?" You've had time enough to learn what draws him out; what makes his eyes go wide.

When you happen upon the right question, at first you almost miss it. 

You're sprawled on the bed that appeared in his apartment half a year into whatever it is the two of you are doing. He's crouched between your legs with your cock in his mouth, and your hands are twisted in his hair, and some quirk of your mood has you pulling him down a little harder, a little rougher, than is probably comfortable. 

You pause and wait for him to look up, his lips still stretched around you. You murmur, "Baby, is this okay?" He answers with a tightening of his grip on your ass and dips his head back down, pushing his nose right up against your stomach.

You ask, "Is that good?" And then, your ears burning, "You like it when I fuck your mouth?" He moans wetly against your cock, so far down his throat it would choke a man who had to breathe.

And you say, "You want me to fuck you?" 

And his eyes flicker up again, pupils blown, only a moment but enough for you to put some pieces together. To finally see the shape of what he hasn't said to you.

"Wait," you say, and he stops at once, pulls back and watches you, his mouth and your cock both flushed and spit-slick. And you ask him, slow and graveled, "Baby, do you want me to fuck you?"

He licks his lips. "Taako..." 

"You do." It's not a question, now -- not with him looking at you like this. "Oh my god, Krav, you want me to bang you so bad."

"I..." He sits back on his heels, affording you a welcome view of exactly how hard this is making him. "We can do that," he says carefully. "If you want."

You push yourself up until you're sitting crosslegged, and you leer at him on purpose. "Nuh-uh, no way you're shoving this back on me, m'dude."

Kravitz reaches out to touch your knee. "I wouldn't mind," he says, very soft.

"Mind what?"

His throat moves as he swallows. "If you fucked me." 

"Then ask for it," you say. Your mouth has gone a little dry.

"Taako..." He leans forward; kisses your lips, then the corner of your eye. Says, close to your ear, "I want you to fuck me." Then, "Please."

It's that last bit that moves you to plant your palm flat on his chest and push him over backwards. Harder than you needed to, but you're starting to think maybe that's just fine. Maybe a lot of things are fine that you hadn't given much thought to. Not until now, when you're crawling forward to fence him in with your arms, to lean down and kiss him, hard and deep. Suddenly thinking about a whole lot all at once.

He watches you reach for the bottle on the nightstand, watches you tie back your hair and then slick your fingers, his bottom lip between his teeth, and you kind of want to slap him a little for not saying something sooner. Or yourself, maybe, for not bothering to ask.

This man's body is yours, and it's familiar territory. You've fucked him with your mouth and your fingers and you know how to open him up, where to push and how hard, how quickly. Patient and methodical, untying him like a knotted string. Tonight he bucks against your hand with an eagerness that goes straight to your dick, and it's all you can do not to rush this.

You do not want to rush this. You absolutely cannot fuck up any part of what's happening on this bed, of what the thought of your cock inside him is clearly doing to the man underneath you.

Then his moans coalesce into another "Please," and that's it; that's enough. You won't make him ask again.

You slip your fingers out of him and kiss the tip of his cock; nip the inside of his thigh, the softness below his navel, the hard point of a nipple, the underside of his chin. You hold your cock in your hand and gently press it to the slick, softened pucker of his ass. And you ask him if he's ready. And you have rarely heard the word "yes" sound quite so obscene.

It makes you greedy to see him like this. You want to take him apart entirely; to hear what he sounds like in pieces. 

He gasps when you push into him; holds your eyes the way he knows you like, his own half-lidded and half-focused as you find your rhythm. You feel his legs close around you, thighs already trembling and heels dug into your flanks. Your face is close to his, the way you know he likes, and his sympathetic breath falls into sync with your own, quick and spell-warmed on your skin. 

And he feels so good. He feels amazing under you, solid and soft and moaning your name, both of you slick with the oil and with your sweat. The sight of how he rocks against the mattress as you fuck him, of how his hair bunches up on the sheets, is almost too much. It's almost too good for you to stand.

His arms around your neck, his legs around your body, his body tight around your cock. You're drowning a little in all of it, this fresh and heady intimacy, this new way to be wanted by a man who always does.

You kiss him, sloppy with eagerness, and reach down between your stomachs; find his cock with your hand and curl your fingers around him. He spills over the edge with his nails sharp on your back, gasping a half-strangled cry of pleasure that's enough to drag you down with him.

Later, when you've untangled your limbs and found a glass of water and nested back into the wreckage of his bed, you pull him close to your chest and say, "My flower. My treasure. My darling. My dearest."

"Just say it," he mutters against your neck. 

"How the actual fuck did you go this long."

"I'm fine either way," he says, embarrassed maybe but not unhappy.

You snort and kiss the top of his head. "You're an idiot."

"Mmmm." He drapes a boneless arm across your stomach. "Probably."

You sigh out a breath that turns into a chuckle. "Hoo boy, I'm gonna feel this in the abs tomorrow."

"Sorry."

"Don't you fucking apologize for any single part of what just happened, are you KIDDING ME with this."

He laughs, and snuggles closer. And then, very softly, "I love you."

"You should."

"Hmm."

"I'm amazing."

"It's true," he agrees.

You smooth his hair back from his forehead; press your cheek to his brow. "Love you, too," you say quietly.

"Mmm."

"Love to wreck your ass."

He pushes his face into the hollow below your jaw, and draws a breath, and blows a loud raspberry against your skin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fault of a whole bunch of folks on Twitter who know exactly who they are.
> 
> Y'all told me that Kravitz needed to get wrecked, and you were right.
> 
> @Wildgoosery


End file.
